Some heartaches last longer than you think you could possibly bear--longer than you can count or measure. And yet, you find yourself months or years later, still bearing them, and maybe even thriving. "How can this be?" you wonder. The ache hasn't lessened with time; no, that hasn't changed at all, but one thing has changed. You have grown stronger.
You are the plant that bloomed once--a million petals thin as dragonfly wings--and then when the last of the blooms fell away, a gardener cut you all the way back to your stump. To the passerby you were dead--or worse--you'd never even existed.
The snows came, the rains, the ice; dark clouds loomed low over the garden's dark crust. Nothing changed. At least not on the surface, but roots do their best work with no one but the earthworms for an audience.
And when the sun returned, you were ready.
This post is dedicated with love and thanks to an old friend who give me a big gift yesterday.
P.S. I have questions that need answers over at The Magpie's Pen today! Hope you'll stop on by. xo